Come, let us fling wild flowers
On winter’s death.
The whirr of beating wings
Once filled the air with passage all one way;
O let us fling wild flowers
On winter’s death.
(Isobel Stone)
More Poetry from Isobel Stone:
Isobel Stone Poems based on Topics: Death & Dying, Winter- I Dread The Spring (Isobel Stone Poems)
- Creator (Isobel Stone Poems)
- Moments Reluctant To Pass (Isobel Stone Poems)
- Still Death (Isobel Stone Poems)
- Night Mood (Isobel Stone Poems)
- Bricks (Isobel Stone Poems)